Zombies are meant to be slow, she thought angrily.
She pushed against the door with all her might, screaming with the exertion it took. Finally, he was shoved outside. She managed to close the door, sliding the lock into place and leaning her back heavily against the wood. Sweat poured down her forehead. She felt sick. Violet closed her eyes, wondering if her heart would ever stop racing. She could still hear the screams outside. There were cars crashing, alarms going off, crying and terror and the kinds of noises she never thought she’d hear when she woke up less than an hour earlier.
A creak of floorboards. Violet opened her eyes just in time to see a woman lunge. She was wearing a white lace nightie, offset slightly by the gaping wound in her stomach. Violet held out her arms, pushing back with all her strength. She barely had any left, but it was just enough to keep the zombie at bay. The woman’s eyes were almost white, and her teeth snapped in Violet’s face. Though she had no idea what caused this or why it was happening, she knew this thing wanted to kill her.
Her arms were hurting, but she continued to fight. The zombie moved her head suddenly, sinking her teeth into Violet’s left arm, just below the elbow. She screamed as teeth tore through her skin.
It was worse than any pain she’d ever experienced—sharp and brutal. She kicked out, catching the woman in the stomach and pushing her back. Violet ran, clutching her bleeding arm against her chest. She had no idea where the back door was, so she ran up the stairs. When she saw the bathroom up ahead, she threw herself inside.
The door slammed shut, and Violet saw a man click the lock into place as she dropped onto the floor by the sink. He was normal, not dead like the others. There was a hammering at the wood, rattling the frame. The man grabbed a towel, hurriedly wrapping Violet’s arm. She wanted to thank him, but her eyes felt heavy. Within seconds, everything was black.
When she opened her eyes, it took her a few minutes to realize she wasn’t in the bathroom anymore. She was lying on the floor of a bedroom. Her arm hurt. A lot. In fact, everything did. She sat up slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the space around her. It was a large bedroom with floral wallpaper and a wooden dressing table. She was alone.
Violet leaned forward and threw up, managing to avoid getting it on herself. Mostly. When she was finished, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, with all the dignity that action allowed. Catching sight of the large bruise on her wrist—her now incredibly pale wrist—Violet started to get nervous. She had never exactly been tanned, but she didn’t remember being that white.
She looked at her other arm. The bite mark had been stitched, but the veins underneath were now dark black, and she wondered briefly if she might have blood poisoning.
If only.
She noticed a couple of other abnormalities as well. Like the scratches on her arms. As she got to her feet to examine herself in the mirror on the wall, she saw bruising on her face, too. Her very pale face with bloodstains around the mouth.
I must’ve cut my lip.
Her eyes were different, too. She moved closer to the mirror to investigate more closely. They had always been brown, but were grey now, with just a couple of streaks of brown across the iris. Her hair was matted and dirty, like she hadn’t washed it for days, but that couldn’t be right because she had the morning of the party.
Cautiously, Violet made her way to the open door. There was no sign of the man who saved her, or the woman who bit her. She crept to the bathroom, but realized it was different. She wasn’t in the same house she’d passed out in.
How did I get here?
Her stomach growled. She felt hungrier than she’d been in a long time. And thirsty, too, with an unpleasant taste in her mouth. Violet went downstairs to the kitchen, which was deserted. She drank water straight from the tap, and then searched the cupboards. She found a packet of chips, and then began shoveling handfuls into her mouth. Stomach revolting, she stopped to throw up again, but at least managed to make it to the sink.
Her vomit was black.
Violet raised her head, taking her first glance out of the window. The street was quiet, the same one she’d been on when she left the woods, except this house was on the other side. There were no people outside anymore, no walking ones at least, but there were bodies. There were also more crashed cars and debris, along with a pile of rubble where the burning house had been.
How long have I been in here?
She heaved, vomiting more black liquid, hot and acidic as it came up her throat.
What happened to me?
Violet managed to get more vomit on her sweater than she’d anticipated, and though she hated the sequined dress, she didn’t love the idea of smelling like puke all day. She tossed the sweater into the garbage can, searching for a jacket that fit well enough. After she found one on a hook by the back door, she slid it on. The dress was bloodstained, but she didn’t want to waste time rooting through a stranger’s wardrobe for something else to wear. She wanted to get away from this place as quickly as possible, but couldn’t find her bag or cell phone anywhere.
Just leave it; you need to go.
Violet glanced out the window. The sun outside was low, so it was probably early in the morning.
After drinking a little more water, she made her way to the front door. It was open. She’d been lucky none of those things had come inside.
But why am I here?
Did the man who saved me bring me here?
The sky was cloudy, and there was a heaviness in the air, as if a storm were approaching. Violet couldn’t shake the feeling she’d been in the house for more than a couple of days. The appearance of the street outside suggested things had been bad for a while.
She continued, her shoes on the pavement the only sound in the quiet street. There were no screams now, just the silent bodies. Violet felt almost numb as she passed them, as though they weren’t real. She felt a little like she was on the set of a movie. When she glanced to her right, she could see the woods, her quickest route home, but there was no way she was going back in there again. There was a dog barking somewhere, and Violet thought briefly of Ben. Would he still be alive? She hoped so.
Violet’s foot hit something soft. She’d been so focused on the woods she’d not been paying attention to where she was going. She’d walked right into a dead body. It was a woman in a blue dress. Or at least, it used to be blue. The dress was stained from the large open wound on her chest. Most of her face had been chewed off. She had a jagged piece of glass sticking out of her skull. It was while Violet was gaping at this body that the realization of what was happening finally hit.
These are all people. Dead people. They’ve been ripped open and left to rot out here.
What if I’m the only one left? What if no one else made it?
I was bitten, so what does that mean?
Violet fell to her knees, her heart racing, beads of sweat prickling on her skin. She didn’t know what to do, couldn’t even think straight. The road around her seemed to be spinning out of control, and it was all she could do to put her hands onto the tarmac and try to hold on for dear life. She closed her eyes, put her head down, and rested her forehead on the ground. Tiny bits of concrete dug into her skin, but it was good. The pain reassured her that she was still alive.
I’ll go home. Try to make sense of all this in the safety of my house. Lock all the doors, climb into bed, and try to come to terms with this nightmare. In my pajamas.
As usual, Violet was handling things calmly and maturely. She opened her eyes, grateful her surroundings seemed to have stopped spinning at least. Slowly, carefully, she got to her feet. She moved past the woman, past the other bodies, and on toward the main road. There was smoke in the distance, coming from several different places. She supposed more houses had caught fire.
Violet screamed as fingers curled around her ankle, and she tried to yank away. Something that used to be a person had grabbed hold of her. It must have come from the burned-down house, because it was scorche
d all over and missing both legs. It held tightly onto her ankle, growling and snapping its teeth. She lost her balance and fell.
“Get off!” She kicked out, trying to free herself.
The man, zombie, whatever it was, held on tightly. Violet kicked out again, catching it right in the jaw. It knocked the scorched head clean off its shoulders.
“Oh my god!” Violet wriggled back, away from the body. The hand detached from the arm, and she roughly pried the blackened fingers from her skin. The head was a few feet away, snapping its jaws as though nothing had happened.
Violet got to her feet, wiping the dirt and ash from her body, her heart rate slowly returning to normal.
“Gross,” she muttered, staring at the head.
Violet glanced around, confirming no one had seen her slight overreaction to a creature that pretty much turned to dust when touched, then headed toward the main road. There, she found more cars. Some were crashed, some abandoned, some burned out. But up ahead, she could see the shape of a person still inside one, someone moving. She hurried over, praying it would be a living human. But of course, today was not her lucky day.
The dead one in this car was a man in relatively good condition. His face was devoid of scratches or marks, and his pale, dead skin actually complemented his shiny blond hair. He looked almost Scandinavian—strong, muscular, handsome.
Not that she was attracted to him. He was a zombie. That would be weird.
She moved a little closer to the window, trying to get a better idea of what she would be up against, and also coming to the bitter realization that even though this guy was dead he was still out of her league. His beautifully shaped eyes were devoid of all color. His perfectly straight teeth were gnashing hungrily. He had a large bandage wrapped around his muscular arm. It was soaked in dark red blood.
He was bitten.
The thought appeared in her mind immediately. It made Violet jump back from the window, but it didn’t make sense. If being bitten turned people into one of those things, why was she still okay?
But you’re not okay; you can’t even remember when you arrived in the mystery house.
Violet shook her head. She couldn’t know for sure it was a bite mark on the man’s arm. It could’ve been anything under that bandage.
She moved on, quickening her pace down the quiet street, the sound of the man’s movements drifting away behind her.
As she rounded the next corner, Violet came face to face with another one of the creatures. Unfortunately for her, this one was neither an attractive man, nor separated from her by a pane of glass and a seat belt. It was a female feeding on a corpse on the ground. Violet’s eyes widened, and she froze where she stood. The woman made horrible noises as she fed, slurping and smacking her lips together.
Go, a voice yelled in her head. Go now while it’s distracted!
Of course, when put under pressure, Violet screwed it up. As she backed away, a piece of broken glass crunched loudly under her shoe.
Great.
The woman jumped up, a loud growl escaping her lips. She ran, forcing Violet to spin around and head down a road to her left. She moved as fast as she could, skidding around another corner. A huge truck had overturned, blocking most of the road. Three cars were crashed together, filling in the only gap.
I could climb over the cars?
But it was no good. There were four more zombies already doing just that, heading toward her. Violet let out an angry cry, changing direction and cutting through a narrow road between the houses. She didn’t look back, not wanting to fall over, but she knew there were now at least five of them close behind. She also knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace for very long. She’d never been a good runner, and her legs were already tiring.
As she passed a house on the left, she could see two zombies hammering on the door. The people inside watched her from the window, but they couldn’t do anything. Unfortunately for her, however, it seemed she could help them, because when the zombies caught sight of her, they joined the ones who were already chasing.
Oh sure, come along, too!
Violet had no idea where she was going; she didn’t know this neighborhood. Up ahead, she could see a small convenience store. There was movement inside. She knew she had to take a chance, since her energy was almost depleted. Forcing herself to speed up, she hurtled toward the door, pushing the full weight of her body against it.
Yes!
It opened! Violet threw herself inside, slamming it shut behind her. When the zombies arrived, they banged heavily on the glass, throwing themselves against it. She found the lock, hurriedly sliding it into place.
“What have you done?”
Violet spun around. There was a man standing behind her. He was short, skinny, and probably in his early twenties. He wore glasses and held a baseball bat, watching her from behind the thick lenses with an anxious suspicion that didn’t make her feel altogether comfortable. She tried to catch her breath, heart still hammering in her chest.
Sweaty, out of breath, and at least seven zombies trailing behind you. What a treat for this guy you are, Violet.
“Why have you brought them here?” he asked, eyes on the shaking door.
A bit taken aback, she paused, trying to think of the most polite way to say, I was trying not to get killed, you moron!
“They were chasing me,” she began, attempting to keep her tone even. “I saw someone in here, so I came in. I had to get away. I couldn’t run any longer.”
“You need to get out.”
Violet wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “What?”
“You need to get out.”
She slowly pivoted back to the door, which was still shaking under the weight of the zombies pressed against it, before turning back to the man.
“I’d rather not.”
“You need to leave!”
Violet shook her head. “No, you don’t seem to understand. What we need to do is barricade the door. We need to stop them from getting in.”
“I’m not going anywhere. This is my store, but you need to leave. You need to take those things with you. Get them away from here.” His voice was frantic, as if he were putting the plan together in his head as he spoke.
Okay, my mistake—you’re clearly insane.
Violet spoke gently. “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll leave. Where’s the back door?” If she could get out that way, she could hopefully get a head start before the zombies saw her. It would give her a chance at least, and it was a more appealing option than staying in the store with Crazy McCrazerson anyway.
But Crazy wasn’t on board with that plan either. “No, you need to go that way.” He pointed to the front door, where the nearest zombie was smashing its head violently against the strong glass. “You need to take them with you.”
Violet shook her head. “Out there? I don’t think you understand—”
But he wasn’t listening, babbling to himself as he paced back and forth. “You need to get them away from here. Yes. Draw them away. Then I’ll be safe again. Safe and sound.”
“They’ll kill me,” Violet insisted, taking a tentative step toward him. “I won’t get one foot out the door.”
“They’ll be busy with you, and I’ll be safe.” He wasn’t even talking to her now; his eyes were focused over her shoulder.
Violet shook her head, desperately trying to convince him. “As soon as you open the door, those things will come in here. They won’t just take me; they’ll kill you, too. Surely you can see that?”
But his mind was made up. He moved closer to Violet, using the baseball bat to force her toward the door. Violet’s back hit the glass. She could feel it vibrating as the things outside hammered against it. She knew it wouldn’t hold much longer. The man leaned over, reaching for the lock. Violet pushed him as hard as she could, fighting with all she had left to keep him from the handle.
“It’s the only way,” he panted, his free hand on her neck, holding her at arm’s length.
She bit him on the wrist. Not exactly the actions of a sane person, but it was the only thing she could think to do. Her hands were busy trying to hold him back, and she knew she only had seconds to act. She’d only meant to shock him, to force him away.
It worked. He released his hold, crying out in pain.
But from the moment the blood hit Violet’s tongue, the whole world around her seemed to change. Everything became black and white. Except the blood. The blood pouring out of his wrist was a glorious, beautiful crimson. She felt strong, unstoppable, and something else.
When Violet woke up, it was raining. She could hear the drops falling heavily against the windows. She was lying on her back on the cold floor, her arms and legs wide as though she’d been making a snow angel. A rather macabre one, since the floor was slick with blood.
Her head felt heavy, and was throbbing painfully. She reached to feel it gingerly. There was no cut at least. The zombies had gone. There was no sign of them at the door. She didn’t know where the man was. Carefully, she sat up, glancing around the store.
Oh, there he is.
This doesn’t bode well for me.
Most of his arm, the one she had bit into, had been chewed away, right down to the bone. So had his nose and the majority of his left cheek. Violet anxiously scanned the room, panicked that one of the zombies was inside the store with her. But she was alone. She looked down at her hands; they were covered in blood. There were dry flecks all over her skin, and she could taste iron in her mouth. All too suddenly, she knew.
I ate him.
She vomited again. And again. Blood, skin, bone fragments, hair—she could see it all as she spluttered and wretched onto the floor. Every time she thought she was done, there was more.
Alive? Page 2